


Continuing On

by calisonne



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ADWD spoilers, Gen, if you feel me, its sort of there, not exactly relationship but, set pre quentyns first pov psa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calisonne/pseuds/calisonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the raid that killed three of their friends, Quentyn is mourning. Gerris, of course, is himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Continuing On

**Author's Note:**

> I reread Quent's POV chapters today and I sort of felt inclined to write this because, well, Gerris and Quentyn have a gr8 dynamic and what a good place to write from, eh?

Three people dead, and they were not even in Volantis. He hung over the side of the Meadowlark, watching the waves as they bobbed up and down; there was only a gentle breeze, so the waves were only soft, breaking as they hit the boat without causing the vessel to rock any more than subtly. It had been a good fight, if he could call it that, in the sense that he had been able to flaunt his skill with his spear and sword. He had been trained from birth to be able to use those weapons. All that excitement had vanished as soon as he became aware that one of his friends were dead, and another dying. Prince Quentyn Martell had frozen in place, spear dripping with blood. Gerris and Arch had finished them off, Gerris still very much into it all when it was over, the reality of the situation not sinking in. The reality was, they were the only three left, and the journey had only just begun. Corsairs were not even a threat he had foreseen.  
“Quent?” Someone was calling for him. It sounded like Gerris, “Quentyn?” The voice drew nearer and then Quentyn was very much aware of the taller blonde male sliding up beside him, “sometimes I think you come up here to get away from us. You know Arch wouldn't be able to hold his guts if he ventured up here.” Quentyn did not think that merited a response, but Ser Gerris Drinkwater continued anyway, “I can manage that though, you'll have to try harder.”  
“If I was trying to get away from you, do you not think it would be wise to leave me be?” Quentyn put in, not taking his eyes away from the sea.  
“If that was supposed to be a threat, it wasn't a very good one. You're not that scary, Quent.” Gerris chuckled. Silence. “If this is about Cletus and Will-”  
“Did it even bother you?” Quentyn cut in, his voice flat and toneless. Gerris did not reply instantly, so Quentyn twisted his head slightly to see if the older man was still there; Gerris was studying him, mouth drawn into a line rather than any smirk he may have previously owned.  
“Yes. But what is done is done. We have a job to do.” Gerris finally spoke, rather short in his reply. He was right, naturally, but Quentyn did not have the ability to simply brush off three deaths. Gerris was a different kind of person, with a different outlook on life. This was most certainly just the beginning of a grand adventure. It was an adventure, Quentyn would not dispute that, but as of yet it was certainly not one that singers would make songs out of, “don't look so glum, Quent. If your face gets any longer you'll tumble down into the sea, and then, well, Arch and I could just go home.”  
“If I died from falling overboard and drowning with you stood right here next to me, I do not think you would be permitted to go back home.” Quentyn remarked, but he stepped away from the edge of the boat all the same.  
“Well then, I'm glad you have decided against trying to fall in. I didn't fancy going for a swim.” Gerris returned, nodding to the water, “looks cold.”  
“So you would rescue me then?”  
“What choice would I have?” Gerris scowled, although Quentyn could see it was a mock expression rather than an expression of Drinkwater's actual mood.  
“You could watch as I flopped about doing a very bad impression of a fish.” Quentyn shrugged. Gerris snorted.  
“I'd laugh at you for a while, and then, just as you run out of air, I would dive in and rescue you. That way we would both get what we wanted.” Gerris replied with a smirk.  
“Can you even swim?” Quentyn asked, narrowing his eyes. Gerris shrugged, “as much as I would love to spend my last moments thrashing about in the sea with you, I don't think this is a very strategically planned idea.”  
“No, but it almost made you smile.” Gerris's grin was was increasing in size; _if it got any larger it was surely consume his face_ , Quentyn mused, “smiling is good for you. You should try it more.”  
“I am perfectly content as I am.” Quentyn insisted. He could have smiled, slightly, Gerris did not fail often to brighten his mood, but now he would refuse simply for the reason that was what Gerris wanted. That was entertainment enough.  
“Content to be boring.” Gerris complained, casting him a disapproving look. Quentyn had the perfect response for that.  
“If I'm boring, why do you spend more time with me than you spend with the big man?” He challenged. Gerris laughed once more.  
“You're an idiot, Quent,” He threw his arm around Quentyn's shoulders, “now come inside and stop sulking. We're not far from Volantis, rest would do us all some good.” That much he agreed with. He simply nodded, and let Gerris escort him inside.


End file.
